


Honor and Lies

by curseofgrima



Series: Honor and Lies [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7296244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofgrima/pseuds/curseofgrima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frederick was just a child still living on his father's manor when Robin and her mother appeared on his family's doorstep begging for a place to stay. That night was the start of a forbidden friendship between a serf and a lord, destined to be broken apart by the rules of feudal society. As the years pass, they become separated by war and tradition before reuniting once more. Together, they discover that the line drawn between social classes is more dangerous to cross than they had ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Runaways

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 日本語 available: [名誉と嘘](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14215890) by [Yasumin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yasumin/pseuds/Yasumin)



The night she arrived had been dismal and grey in the dead of spring. It was humid, fog filling the air and causing her messy hair to frizz out wildly. Her mother had collapsed to her knees in front of the closest lord she could find on her journey—whether it was a simple immigration or an escape attempt, Frederick would never know, never find out. The girl had been only a few years younger than himself, and at that time they were but a small toddler and a curious child. His father had stood over the two intruders in front of his door, void of any expression.

Her mother had begged to stay, she said she would do anything to have a safe place to raise her daughter, Robin. She dodged every question about where she had come from, or who her husband was. She denied every tie to the Plegians across the desert despite their clothes decorated in dark purples and watching eyes. His father knew it was all a lie, Frederick could tell by the way his eyes had kept their stony scrutiny. The woman and her daughter could have been a sort of trap, a trick to allow spies onto his manor by taking advantage of his kindness, but there was nothing a mother could do to harm him. He was a great knight, and he could kill her in a single swing of his sword if he wanted to.

So, then, why had she come to him of all lords in the realm? Why this manor, this house which serves the rulers of a kingdom who was at war with the very one they had escaped from? The woman had said it was mere coincidence, that any manor would have done in the end as long as they took them in, but she knew her chances were the best with him. He was known as a noble lord who served his people kindly and without false persecution. Surely, she could have been trying to place herself in his good grace. Maybe she had been, but despite the whispering protests of his father’s vassals and household servants, he did not force them to leave.

“You realize then, what you will become in return for my protection without any title or any husband to your name?” His father had asked her seriously, a warning that if she chose to walk down this path there was no escape from her fate. The woman had bowed her head against the ground, her little daughter watching the scene with soulless eyes. She glanced at young Frederick, who had been forcibly drug behind one of his protectors just in case anything went haywire. A chill ran down his spine.

“Yes, I understand, my lord,” the girl’s mother had agreed, snapping him back to reality. She had not even raised her head from her bowing position to speak.

“Then, I cannot simply turn away a woman and a child who have nowhere to go when they are willing to bow their head to me and vow to become valuable workers. I respect your commitment as a mother, but it does sadden me to designate you to your new lifestyle.” His father motioned for his men to move forward with a slight nod. Two men nervously stepped forwards, pity in their eyes, and removed their knives to cut off the two strangers’ hair until it dangled at their necks.

“Thank you, my lord. I pledge to serve you well for the rest of my days.”

His father’s eyes had sparkled for a single moment then, as if he had caught something in her words and reached a dawning realization, but the light faded just as fast as it had come. He had turned his back on her afterwards, and ordered two of his servants to show them their new living quarters in the fields where they would be working from then onward. Frederick had stared unblinkingly at the girl as she left, loosely holding her mother’s hand. Everyone commented on her eerie appearance and unwavering gaze beneath the moonlight, and even after she had left the cold air she brought with her never dissipated.

“Papa,” he had asked for his father’s attention with a short tug on his cloak, “why did you cut their hair? Where are they going to live?”

“They are serfs now, and will work hard to grow our food just like the others.” He spared one last glance at their backs before shutting the door. “Remember, Frederick, a lord must remain impartial and fair towards all of the people who work beneath him for the sake of his manor. A knight’s life is more than his own.”


	2. Friends

Two years had passed by the time Frederick had the nerve to finally speak to the girl. Although he would never have admitted it, he was intimidated by her. Robin was strong, at least emotionally if not physically. He would sometimes watch her help her mother break, water, weed, and harvest the fields for hours over the seasons during the times he was feeling dejected. It seemed they never stopped working, but apparently that was what serfs did. He marveled at how she could keep smiling and going even in the hot summer air, or in the freezing winter afternoons. Especially when she was constantly being tormented by the other children.

Serfs were the lowest caste one could belong to, but people would always try to put down others in order to elevate themselves, his father had told him. The other serf children, the boys especially, heard their mothers’ ruthless gossip and whispers about Robin’s own mother, and her lack of a father. They were low caste, but a bastard child was even lower than they were. They made games out of harassing her, messing up her rows and spilling over her seeds before she could plant them, or running around in circles while calling her names. Frederick hated it, but no one would let him step in. He was a just a boy, and there was nothing he could do to change the cruelty of animals, they had told him.

But all of that was gone from his mind by the time Robin had rounded the corner and crashed into him, accidentally pushing him onto the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. She had been surprised at his presence in the serf’s part of the manor grounds, but quickly put her hand over his mouth and dragged him behind a moss-covered building. She placed a finger over his mouth, her eyes daring him to speak, but he stayed silent. It was strange to be hiding together with someone he had only watched from afar for so long, and he was nervous at their sudden proximity. When a rowdy group of dirty boys ran by shouting her name, he picked up on the situation easily.

“Bunch of bullies,” Robin spat, wrinkling up her nose. It had taken her a few moments to realize she had still been holding Frederick’s wrist, and looked him over after letting go. He thought she would say something sarcastic, or tell him to go away, but all she cared about was the book held firmly against him in his free arm. “Woah, a book about knights?”

“I-it’s for my studies,” Frederick stuttered. He had been caught off guard by her question, and at the same time, slightly impressed. She was younger than he was, and a serf who usually would never be educated. “You can read?”

“I’m not stupid like those boys chasing me around, thinking they’re better than me just because I don’t know who my dad is.” Robin bit her tongue when she realized what she had admitted to, and silently scuffed her bare feet in the dry dirt patch they were standing on.

Frederick knew very well why she didn’t want to approach the subject of her father since he had heard enough accusations of her being the bastard of another lord, with her mother having escaped in order to avoid her daughter being killed so honor could be restored to the nobleman’s house. Some said it must have been a nobleman’s wife who drove her out instead, threatening to murder them both. Either story was a wild fairy tale in Frederick’s young mind, so he ignored them as they resurfaced in his memory. Instead, he only said, “but you just said you were better than them for knowing how to read.”

Robin stepped back at that, and looked at the ground for a moment. “Well, at least I don’t try to hurt or bully anyone just because I can!”

It was a true statement. Frederick had never seen anything even hinting to her literacy. In fact, it almost seemed as if she had been hiding it, but why? She would be a wonder among the other serfs, maybe she could even teach them how to read and write, as well.

Robin was interesting, and he found himself wanting to spend more time with her. He wondered what she would be like to have as a friend, and he inwardly smiled at the possibilities. They could have so much fun together! But, what excuse would he, a lord’s son, have for coming back to see her after their brief moments together? It would have to be something good, or else she would defiantly turn him down.

That was when he had figured out his plan to lure her in. “My father has a lot of books just sitting around in our book room, would you like to read some of them?” Robin gave him a suspicious glare. “I could lend them to you…if you’d like.”

It was a tempting offer, he could see it in her eyes. After a second of contemplation, her face lit up. “Fine, but don’t tell anyone else! I don’t want to get in trouble or anything.”

“Really?!” He had practically shouted with excitement, but covered his mouth at her movements to shut him up fast. “I mean, yeah. I won’t tell anyone.”

 

Frederick had kept his promise of secrecy, and ran so quickly down the hill the next day that he almost tripped and tumbled to the bottom. He held a stack of novels in his arms, but he had made sure to grab some with pictures. Books with only words were too hard for even him to read, yet, and he wanted to make sure she enjoyed what she read. He wanted her to be happy. He really wanted her to be his friend.

He met her in the same spot as the day before behind the abandoned stone building, books in hand. Robin was ecstatic, grabbing the entire heavy stack from his arms with reckless abandon. She gleefully shuffled through the titles, flipping a few open to look at the beautiful artwork drawn by a careful monk’s hand. She had almost completely forgotten about her earlier fear of being caught, until she remembered he was still standing silently in front of her, waiting for her to say something.

“What is it you want in return for these?”

“Nothing, I don’t want anything,” he had said while waving his arms in front of his chest. Making friends was difficult. How did he approach it? Were they friends now just because she seemed to possibly, maybe, like him a little? Or did they have to shake hands on it like his father did when one of his friends came by?

“You have to be doing this for some reason, or else why would you even bother being nice to a low class mutt like me?” She insisted on an answer, but he was afraid to respond. It was too embarrassing. Too bad her temper wouldn’t allow him to remain silent. She acted as if she would drop the stack of books to the ground—even though from the reverent way she held them, he knew she wouldn’t—and glared at him sourly. “If you won’t tell me, then I’ll leave and never speak to you again!”

“Then…” he began asking in a small voice, then suddenly blurted out all at once, “be my friend!” It was exhilarating, and he was frightened of her answer, but at least he had the courage to ask.

Robin was a little less positive, but her face did turn a darker shade. “What?! A lord’s son can’t be friends with a serf kid!”

“Please?” He practically begged her, “I will bring you all the books I can if you do!”

Robin examined his anxious, puppy-like eyes closely, and only found sincerity there. A little moved, she leaned against the stone wall and thought about what to do next. After staring at the cover one of the novels about dragons, she met his eyes once more. “For how long?”

He swallowed at her question, his nerves buzzing with excitement. One more push, and maybe they could be close, maybe he could have the friend he had always desperately wanted. He was so wired with emotion that his thoughts completely slipped out of his mind when he replied with, “Forever.”

“Now you’re just being selfish. We can’t be friends for the same reasons we shouldn’t even be talking in the first place!”

“I don’t care that you aren’t a noble lady, I just want to talk to you. Is that so bad? Is it wrong to want that?” He honestly didn’t understand what could be so harmful about something as innocent as friendship.

Robin shook her head at him. “You’ve had a perfectly comfy life so you don’t get it. You don’t get anything!” She stomped her foot to further make her point, but Frederick was too stubborn to give in.

“I have not had a perfect life! I’ve already started my training as a page, and it’s hard work! I have to take care of my lord and lady soon, and I have all these studies, and I have to practice a lot of things all so I can become a great knight like my father.”

Not very impressed by his big speech, Robin moved her shoulder in order to pull the increasingly heavy stack of books back up into her arms. “At least you can be something. You’re not stuck growing other people’s food for them just to have to give it away, or treated like less than dirt.” 

“If you become my friend, I won’t treat you that way, and I will bring you extra food that’s given to me…along with the books.” He stared at her with pleading eyes, and her resolve wavered.

“If you won’t give up, then I guess I can only say yes.”

“Thank you! We’ll have so much fun together!” He grabbed Robin’s shoulders and shook her while smiling brightly. “I already have so many ideas of games we can play and places to hide.”

Robin only stared at him in bewilderment as he began to plan all of the activities they would do together in the following days. His anticipation was contagious, and she found herself smiling too from watching him pace back and forth. Perhaps being friends with a noble boy wouldn’t be so terrible.


	3. The Inevitable

All good things must come to an end was a saying Frederick never liked to hear from his father, but it never failed to be true. It haunted him, particularly after his precious time spent with Robin was cut short so easily. It was practically too easy for it all to fall apart. He should have known better, should have listened to everyone’s insistence that he not get involved.

The same boys who had been chasing her the first day they had held a conversation discovered her secretly reading in the woods, and made sure to promptly snatch the prized novel away from her. Predictably, they had turned it into a game, accusing her of pretending to be able read to feel as if she was above them. They laughed at her, insulted her, but the one thing she couldn’t stand was destroying books, so she had chased them down across the fields in front of every serf working that day. Frightened by her seriousness, the brats had thrown the book in the mud and stomped on it for good measure, completely ruining the handwritten story she had been so invested in.

Anger blinded her, and she fought them barehanded until they were crying for their mothers. It was too late for her to cover it up by then, serfs were too poor to be able to afford precious commodities like books. They worked hard enough just to stay alive, let alone being able to know how to read. She must have stolen it, they agreed on, and the news swiftly spread until they dragged her to their lord’s doorstep. It was only a matter of time before she got into some sort of trouble in their opinion, really. She was a bastard child with an unknown past, what could you expect?

Robin gaped at the towering lord in front of her. His expression was cold and distant as he met her gaze, scrutinizing her from head to toe for answers. She was poor and only a child, so he could have forgiven her—if only it had not been a book from his own private collection. He straightened his back further, if that was even possible, his brow furrowing into a glare.

“You have stolen from me, so you do know the consequences of your actions, correct?”

Trembling, she shook her head. “I didn’t steal anything. Frederick just let me borrow them, but I promise I was going to return them when I was done!”

The lord froze at her accusation, and glanced at the wall to the next room where he knew his son was eavesdropping on the conversation. He had to admit his disbelief in the fact the girl could read, since that would entail her mother was either a lady of high standing, or maybe had once had good connections to learn how herself. Either way, he rubbed his chin at the puzzle before him.

Making his decision, he sighed regretfully. “Even so, I am afraid nothing can be done. A serf cannot take their master’s personal belongings, whether they were loaned to them or not. My son is not your lord, he does not make the decisions. You obey me first and foremost.” He pulled out a flat wooden stick from the vase on the wall behind him, and stood firmly in front of her. “Hold out your hands, child.”

“Wait!” Frederick rushed out from behind the wall and covered Robin with his arms spread wide. His expression was one of fierce conviction despite the fear in his heart. He had never stood against his father before, and he had no idea what he would do to him for it. “She’s telling the truth! I lent her those books, and I took them out of the book room myself. I didn’t mean to do anything bad, I only wanted to be friends with her.”

He knelt down on a single knee and faced his father seriously. “Punish me instead. Robin didn’t do anything wrong.”

_“Frederick, leave,” _his father warned in a deep, threatening tone. “I will talk with you later, but she must still be punished for her impudence.”__

__“But, that isn’t fair! She didn’t do anything bad!” Frederick was lifted off of the ground by one of the household servants and dragged out of the room by order of his father. He kicked and struggled with all of his strength, but he was nothing versus the burly man carrying him upstairs._ _

__The lord never took his eyes off of Robin, even as his son screamed for him to stop. With a flick of his wrist, he commanded her to put out her hands, and she had no choice but to comply. He brought down the wooden stick repeatedly on her palms, his expression never changing. The pain was burning and sent jolts of lightning through her arms, but Robin refused to cry out. If she did, the bystanders would only look down on her more, and she wasn’t about to let them drag her name through the mud any further. By the time her torment stopped, her hands were bloody and covered in blisters._ _

__It was impossible for her to bend her fingers without crying, so she kept her hands open at her sides, bowing without any change in her stony expression except for the tears pooling in her eyes and running down her face. Her lord could no longer stand to watch the painful scene, so he sent her away to the fields where her mother gathered her up in a crushing hug. For weeks, her hands remained tightly bound in many bandages wrapped over and over again during harsh farm labor, but her short-lived friend did not come running to speak to her again._ _

__\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__Frederick laid face down, buried into his pillow in order to cover up the sound of his muffled shouting. He was furious—at his father, at the boys who bullied Robin, and, most of all, at himself. He should have known better. Robin was right, his life was too perfect and comfortable compared to her own! He didn’t understand anything about the world, and that cost her in the end._ _

__When the door to his room creaked open, he shouted once more at his father to leave. Sighing, the lord slowly sat down next to his son and explained to him why he had to be firm. Judgement must be impartial. Personal feelings cannot get in the way of punishment. He would have to learn more, and he would know better now not to repeat this mistake._ _

__Frederick asked if he enjoyed hurting Robin. Struck with pain at even the notion of his son believing he could revel in another’s pain, the knight shut his eyes and tightly held his hands together in front of his lap. He would never enjoy dealing punishments, he promised, a man who did was more monster than human. Hurting others to only benefit oneself was cowardice._ _

__Those words repeated themselves in Frederick’s mind when the other sons of the nobility who were also hoping to be pages laughed at him. They called him a stick in the mud, no fun, a boring kid who would only tell on them if they did anything even barely against the rules. He didn’t understand why they all seemed to hate him so much, he only told the truth and defended his own beliefs—the rules of being a knight! But, to the others he should have fit in with, he was a liability to their fun. He was an outcast. If only he hadn’t had such strong morals, perhaps he would have made friends._ _

__The situation only grew worse when during training one day he was cornered by their sneaky grins and sarcastic giggles._ _

__“So, I heard you tried to make friends with a serf.”_ _

__“How sad is that?” another boy snickered._ _

__“You couldn’t make any friends here, so you were so desperate you had to ask a stupid, dirty serf to be your friend?”_ _

__Barely holding back his anger, Frederick tried to push them aside so he could walk through, but he was roughly shoved onto the ground. He growled, “Don’t talk about her that way.”_ _

__Rambunctious laughter filled the air, ridiculing him as the outsider. The boys rudely pointed at him as he sat in the dirt. “Next thing you know, you will start to talk just like a serf. Not like they have much to talk about besides rolling around in the dirt, anyway, though. They’re barely less than animals!”_ _

__Frederick could take no more of the insults being thrown around about Robin, and pushed the ringleader of the page boys onto his back. Mud splashed everywhere as the two struggled against each other, Frederick beating him with his fists until the other boys jumped into to save their friend. “Cowards!” He spat at them venomously, his face dangerously red. “You interrupted a fight between me and him! You laugh at people, but then you’re no better than animals yourself!”_ _

__The group had descended upon him in a fit of outrage, forcing a squire to rush in and separate them. Downtrodden, but still full of fighting spirit, each one of them were brought before their fathers and faced punishments—of varying levels of severity. Frederick’s own father was both the harshest and kindest of all. Concerned for his son’s involvement with the lower caste, and needing to have a suitable place for him to train until he became a squire, he sent him away to live at the Exalt’s castle in the capital. He argued there was no better lord to serve than the ruler of Ylisse, itself. Frederick was heartbroken, but he knew he could not defy his father any longer._ _

__Staring out at the valleys and hills passing by on his horse, where his house’s peasantry worked in the town and the serfs toiled in the fields, he thought of Robin. With a deep pang of emptiness striking his chest, he wondered if he would ever see her again._ _


	4. Brief Reunion

Special treatment. Those words were a constant part of Robin’s life for three of the seven years Frederick had spent away for his training. At the age of nine, her mother had passed on after contracting a serious disease no one really understood, and even less really cared to cure. She was a wanderer, a husband-less wench with nothing to her name but a child who everyone believed it as fact that she must have been born out of wedlock . A serf had little food for themselves, which led to weakness and an inability to fight off infections and illness. Her mother left the world behind pale, weak, but still smiling.

An orphan, Robin had almost given up hope of being taken in by any of the other serf families who had already been tied by blood, sweat and tears. She had hardly ever been accepted by them, and she feared for the worst. Before her fears could be realized, however, a summons had been sent for her from her lordship himself, ordering her to come work as a servant in his homestead. It was a great relief, but it made no sense. Serfs never moved up a caste, but when she had asked for his reasons, he had only told her he made a promise with her mother to grant her daughter a safe place to grow up. If Robin couldn’t be safe as a serf, then she would be a servant. Nothing more, nothing less.

There was no doubt in her mind the household staff would despise her—a rat from the fields coming into the house to soil their lives. The same cycle of resentment repeated itself. They might have been low-class servants, but at least they were better off than serfs, and that was their small pride. The harassment in the beginning was the worst of it, telling her to take items to the wrong places, forcing her to clean out the outhouse every night, confusing her when giving directions, rescheduling her chores in secret. They played her like an idiot for laughs and sport, but over the months she had begun her own game.

Memory was a gift she seemed to have inherited from her mother, who she thanked every day in her mind. She memorized every servant’s name and schedule by herself, and drew her own map of the manor she managed to study every night until it was second nature. There were places in the house no one else knew about or how to get there the fastest, and eventually she completed everything so perfectly no one could not acknowledge her skills. She became a favorite of his lordship, though he was strict never to admit it and never spoke of favorites. It was obvious by the way he allowed her to clean his private study no other servant in the household could touch.

Special treatment, yes. They were probably correct in their assumption, but Robin could care less about what they thought by then. She had access to books and knowledge, and began to entertain herself by practicing cartography and reasearching weaponry. After years of struggling, she had finally managed to secure a place for herself where she would not starve or worry for her safety. She was content, up until the moment her old friend had stepped off of his horse and back onto his family grounds once more.

Frederick had grown considerably in the seven years they had spent apart, and so had she. He was a teenager, still young but starting to show true signs of maturity in his face and the way he carried himself, even the way he spoke. He enunciated every word, a habit picked up from the knights and higher nobility in the Exalt’s court. His hair had grown, as wild as always, but curlier. He was polite, and the envy of his noble peers at the night of his celebration for becoming a squire. His father had greeted him with open arms and the first warm smile Robin had ever seen on his face.

Something moved inside of her when their eyes met for the first time since she had seen him carried away as a boy. It was as if he was a different person, but she saw some of his anxious tendencies break through his seemingly calmer nature. When he had moved closer to her, he stared down at her hands and saw she was wearing gloves. It dawned on him then that she had always worn gloves, even when they were children, but now that she had no farm work to do it was unusual. He held a hand to his mouth for a moment when he considered the fact she might have been covering up her scars, and evaded her gaze.

“The last place I expected to see you again was in my father’s book room,” he said. His voice had deepened, but had not yet cracked completely. It was an interesting sound to hear a boy on the verge of manhood, but Robin feigned disinterest by leaning back in her chair. She put her feet on top of the desk, softly bouncing her legs.

“Ironic, isn’t it? I’m here in the exact same place that led to my punishment.”

“Fate is interesting in that way.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Robin said with tamed anger. She pretended to play with the magnifying glass in her hands. “I believe in what I can do with my own strength and wits. Fate is just a word people use when they want to blame something for their shitty lives. That, or when they want to seduce an unsuspecting lady.”

Frederick laughed softly at her words and smiled. “At least you haven’t changed too much since I left. Well, besides being more sarcastic than before.”

“Being surrounded by fools trying to make a game out of you can do that to a person, but I think you’ll find I’ve changed more than you think.” Robin pulled out a slip of paper from the book sitting next to her shoes to reveal one of her latest maps. It was an amateur’s work, but she was still proud of it for the amount of time she had spent drawing everything to the most precise measurements. 

Astounded, Frederick examined the map in his hands, looking over drawn mountains, frozen boarders, scorching deserts, and his own manor’s name written down in a more elegant penmanship than he would have predicted. Hours upon days must have been spent making this one piece of paper, and he marveled at her work. “This is amazing, Robin.” He sat the map down and cocked an eyebrow at her skeptically. “What else have you been working on?”

Filled with excitement and passionate energy, Robin jumped up from her chair and ran over to the bookshelves to gather every book she could into her arms. Slamming them one by one onto the table, she named them all. “Mathematics, history, manakete lore, weaponry, basics of alchemy, and my favorite, the ancient book of tactical warfare starting from the Hero King Marth himself.”

Frederick was more than astonished by his friend’s self-education. He stared at the tower of books in awe, but an idea struck him as he remembered his squire celebration. “You mentioned tactics. Well, my father bought me something from Valm I think you will like, then. Wait here while I go get it.” He ran off down the hallway, leaving Robin perplexed until he came back holding a wooden box with a handle beneath his arm. “Will you play a game with me?”

Robin gazed intensely at the chessboard and its matching pieces as he set up the game on the table between them. It was tempting. She desired it so much she almost shouted with glee at the offer, but the last time she had given in to her wants she had been scarred across her hands. “No, I can’t play.”

“I am sure you will pick it up easily,” Frederick insisted, “I can teach you everything I know.”

“The last time I listened to you persuading me to do something it didn’t end well, and I don’t want to fall into that again.” Robin shut the box and strode across the room, but was stopped in the doorway by his grasp on her arm.

“Just one game, that is all, then we never have to play again. No one will find out, I promise.” Frederick’s eyes were as honest as they had always been, and now shone almost…affectionately. Robin shook her head, surely she was going mad from staying near him and listening to his stories, but the king and queen chess pieces on the table gleamed at her playfully. She was being taunted by a game.

Sighing, she nodded in agreement and they both returned to their seats to play. Her fingers itched to touch the pieces, her soldiers in battle and the royal couple resting in front of her. She could almost hear the galloping of hooves and battle cries in the distance as she played against him, sweeping him across the board in quick movements. She refused to let him win just because he was her lord’s son, but she knew he would not have had it any other way. He was always going on and on about honor—a word easily twisted by any person who could abuse it for their own selfish reasons. Luckily, she knew Frederick was above that sort of dirty politics.

Frederick watched Robin’s every move, attempting to memorize any patterns or weaknesses in her attack. He should have had the upper hand due to experience, but he found his mind slowly drifting, distracted by the graceful movements of her hands and the way her eyes flickered throughout the board. “Beautiful…”

Freezing up, Robin halted her thought process for her next move and looked up at him in confusion. “What did you say?”

“I said you play this game beautifully,” he quickly righted himself, mentally kicking his habit of blurting out words when he was lost in thought.

Robin flushed at his praise of her skills. No one had ever said she was talented at anything before. “Oh, well…thank you. I always wanted to play it myself, ever since I started to watch old guys play it from a distance.”

“You mean, you have never played this game before, and yet you are already wiping the floor with me just from watching?”

“Yeah,” Robin stated as a matter-of-fact. “What’s wrong with that?”

Frederick said nothing, suddenly feeling pressure from her onslaught now more than ever before. He was losing to a first-time player despite his years of studying and experience. His foolish thoughts could wait, so he focused on the task at hand, using every tactic he knew to defeat her. Hours later, he had taken her king and queen from right under her nose at the last possible moment.

“Dammit, this is the real difference between watching and the real deal. I got too distracted in my excitement to play for the first time,” Robin grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. Frederick smiled at her.

“Blaming your loss on a distraction?”

“Don’t laugh!” She yelled at his happy chuckle. He stared longingly at her frustrated expression, barely comprehending her when she asked, “So what do you want for winning?”

“A kiss,” he said before he could come to his senses. He smacked a hand over his mouth and shook his head rapidly as Robin boiled in anger.

“What?!”

“I-I mean! I didn’t—”

“Listen, I agreed to play a game with you, but I didn’t agree to be your plaything.” Robin slammed her hand down on the table, jostling the chess pieces left out on the board.

“I don’t see you like that at all! I just…I just misspoke is all. Just, forget I said anything.”

At his persistent denial, Robin went silent as she took the entirety of him in. He had never been one to play with people’s emotions, and she had never heard of him lying. They couldn’t continue on like this—playing games and talking on equal terms as if they really could be friends. No matter how many chess matches they could play, nothing would be able to change who they were or what part of society they came from. Knowing these moments could be their last friendly exchange, Robin leaned forwards and kissed him for only a moment before pulling away.

“Goodbye, Master Frederick,” she whispered before leaving the room behind.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alone, Frederick gently touched his lips disbelievingly, as if it were all a fever dream. Clenching his hand into a fist, he bit the inside of his lips until his mouth became only a thin line of severity. He fell back onto the floor, shielding his eyes from the sunlight shining in through the windows, regretting what had transpired moments ago. He knew in his heart Robin would never speak to him again. Serfs and lords were never to interact romantically or physically, he knew that, had been forced to memorize it for years. Yet, deep inside of himself, a shameful feeling of happiness spread through him at the knowledge—the indisputable _fact _—Robin had been his first kiss.__

__He brought his hand to his chest and grabbed a fist full of his shirt above his racing heartbeat. Her lips had been more gentle than he had ever imagined._ _


	5. Chapter 5

The celebration in honor of Frederick’s acceptance as his father’s squire was short-lived. In a matter of days, a letter was delivered to his father asking him to stand beside the Exalt in his ongoing war against Plegia. It was a cause his father never enjoyed fighting for—the desolation and destruction Frederick had seen within hours of his first real combat mission made him understand why. Blood was everywhere, bodies covering the battlefield. The sounds of cries and groans of pain from warriors on the brink of death carried on the air in a hellish symphony. Frederick was still young, but in one night his innocence had been robbed from him by the heat of steel and bloodshed.

At first, he didn’t know why anyone could consider this honorable. The act of killing another was far too great a price to pay for his mental stability, he reasoned. He had grown up reading books about heroic kings and their loyal knights bravely defending their homeland from evil tyranny—that was how it was supposed to be. Then, why did the eyes of the first man he killed look equally as human as his own? 

As he had watched the life slowly drain from his enemy’s eyes, shrouded by fear, he saw the darkness of death consume his soul. The man had fallen to the ground with a great thud, barely wearing armor compared to the Ylissean forces. No one understood the exposed costumes Plegians wore. Perhaps they were only a poor country. The man’s corpse smelled of blood and urine.

Frederick had considered these mundane things about the man, whose name he would never know, repeatedly after the massacre. What he had done did not feel heroic, nor did it seem as noble or worth any of the praise his father gave him. The proud pat on his back felt empty and hollow. All he had done was destroy the life of a man who could have been anyone, had any family, any job or dreams, and with one swing he had taken it all away from him. He could barely breathe from the racing of his heart.

He thought enemies would look evil, but beneath the colors of darkness on their robes they were only humans fighting for a cause they believed in. They were the same, but yet every elder soldier he overheard spoke of the Plegians as if they were from another world. Bizarre, nonsensical, they could not be trusted or understood when the gods they worshiped were so different than their own. They were backwards and had strange, dark customs no honorable Ylissean should ever see, they said this around the fire pit while tending their wounds. Frederick could relate to their desire for camaraderie, but he did not want to put other human beings beneath him. His father never supported such beliefs.

It was a wonder to him that his father even continued to stand beside the Exalt even when the war clashed so harshly with his own morals. But, it was the sacred oath of a liege lord and knight to protect his king even in the darkest of times and the fiercest of battles. The only thing he could do was to guide his Exalt as an old friend, giving him advice as best he could, but no mere words could deter the Exalt’s lust for conquest. In a devastating campaign of bloodshed and loss, the Ylissean forces annihilated the Plegian army till they had no choice but to surrender.

Although they had been victorious, Frederick felt no pride. In the final years of their fight, his father had fallen in battle. He had been beyond saving by the time the healers managed to reach him across the battlefield, his last moments spent protecting his Exalt’s life with his own like a true knight would. His leg had been severed completely, and the rain had only hastened his blood loss. Frederick had held his hand only after he the light had left his eyes. Despite being his father’s squire, he was still too inexperienced for the front lines of the attack. His father had drifted away from him before he could even hear his last words, but weren’t heroes always supposed to be granted one last moment with their loved ones before death?

In acknowledgement of his father’s honorable service, the Exalt had Frederick return to his work in the palace as caretaker and protector of his children. It was a civil and mundane job compared to warfare, but he would have been lying if he said he did not prefer it. Cleaning, sewing, choosing clothes, dressing, bathing, and practically raising the three royal children was considerably better than spending months on horseback without bathing, barely fed and on the verge of starvation even in the dead of winter, or killing soldiers until he was desensitized to the sound of death. Washing the smell of blood and filth from his skin had been one of the small gifts he appreciated from his life as a palace servant-squire.

The three children were kind but mischievous. Emmeryn, the eldest, had shown maturity and intelligence far surpassing her age. In some ways she nostalgically reminded him of Robin, but she lacked her sarcasm and the outlook of a girl who had grown up as a serf working the fields. Chrom was more defiant. He never wanted to listen to his lessons or go to formal events. He spent hours sitting on windowsills staring up at the sky in thought, but Frederick did not blame him for doing so when many of the nobility judged him for his father’s mistakes. Little Lissa often tottered along behind him, her hand clutching his pant leg to make sure he would not leave her behind with his long strides. Her brother was always running off without her and hiding from everyone.

When the Exalt had fallen and Emmeryn stepped forward to take his throne, he worried night and day for her life. Several attempts at assassination were tried and failed, the resulting backlash of angry peasantry enraged from years of harsh war leaving them on the brink of starvation. Uprisings practically tore the land apart between peasants and nobility, but Emmeryn’s hope for peace and prosperity eventually spread warmth to her people. She did what she could to mend relations with the Plegians, but her forgiveness was met with venomous contempt at every turn. A conqueror’s daughter could not win their hearts as easily as she had her own people’s. Words of peace rang empty from the mouth of the spawn of the condemned on Plegian ears.

Emmeryn had respected Frederick’s loyal service, and ordered him to return to his manor for some well-deserved rest. Regardless of his protests insisting his place was by the royal family’s side, the Exalt was firm in her command. He had been away from his home for far too long, and it had sat for years without a lord to warm its walls or handle its staff. She reminded him that his people were just as important, if not more so, than herself. The lives of his vassals, servants, castle town, and the serfs were all under his jurisdiction, but how could they trust the protection of a lord who was never there?

Heeding her advice, Frederick returned to his childhood home for the first time in what felt like a century. It was empty and cold to him without his father rushing to greet him or his mother’s soft smile, both of which he would never again experience. His small castle home was darker than he remembered, but the castle town outside was still bustling with energy. He had heard of many other such towns suffering during the war due to steep taxation and lack of resources, but since his father had remained a close companion to the past Exalt, his family’s wealth had never dwindled—a known fact many lords envied and despised him for. Visiting nobles from across the kingdom had shot him vicious glares of disdain or hopeful glances of approval wishing to gain him as an asset through a bond forged by marriage and blood when they came to Ylisstol’s palace. Of course, none of them managed to gain his affections or favoritism since his loyalty was only for the royal family he served.

Hardened by war, raising his child lieges, and seeing the corruption of the nobility had left him taciturn and formally detached from others. He was never cruel or rough. His manners had grown impeccable over time, but he was overly polite with everyone he encountered. No one could gauge the real emotions hidden beneath his cool façade, except for the rare moments of icy smiles before he brought them to their knees. From the moment he had returned to his homestead, everyone knew he would be a splendid lord exactly like his father.

 

The last thing Frederick had expected upon his return were weeks of celebration following his father’s vassals finally swearing their oaths to him as their new overseeing lord. He had officially inherited all of his family’s assets, land, and the lives of the people working beneath him, but he did not know such a ceremony would leave his castle packed full of visitors. Day after day, his vassals and other lords who had been close companions of his father came to greet him as a new lord. They congratulated him on his dubbing as a knight by the Exalt herself before he had left on his journey home, acting as if he was their own son who had received the title.

Flurries of letters were also delivered every evening. He read them by the light of a burning candle in his chambers, furrowing his brow at each mention of his esteemed work by the Exalt’s side, followed closely by an offhanded comment concerning their daughters’ search for a suitable husband. Laughing disdainfully at their attempts of persuasion, he responded with pretend regret that he was not in need of a wife yet during such busy times, and he would send them word when the time was right. It was a tireless act of courtesy, but he would not get anywhere if he simply burned them to a crisp in his fireplace.

Frederick was exhausted by the parties and the constant, subtle remarks being paid behind his back about his deceased father’s close ties with the Exalted family. His skin prickled when he heard the slightest mention of “lapdog” around him, which had become a reoccurring phrase. What weighed on his mind even more, however, were his thoughts of Robin.

Where was she? He was absolutely certain she was still in service to his household, one reassurance from the head of the servants had proven such, but ever since his return he had not seen hide nor hair of her. Was she avoiding him? She had to have been, but why? He recalled the time she had kissed him after their game of chess before he left, and ran his hands down his face with a sigh. Surely, she was not upset over something from years ago. They had only been silly children then.

Frederick was skeptical of her reasons. He had long ago grown out of the feelings he had for Robin once, or so he thought—until she passed him in the hallway on his way to his father’s abandoned study. They had both stopped in their tracks, realization dawning on who they had passed. A flicker of surprise and some hidden emotion passed over Robin’s face, but she quickly looked away from him to the floor before their eyes could meet. Her silence created a wall between them, but he stepped forward regardless, feeling only the squeeze of his heart as he watched her expression turn to stone.

What could he say that would capture what he felt? _It has been awhile? Where have you been? Why are you avoiding me? Do you still make maps? What have you been doing all these years? You would not believe the things that I have seen. Do you hate me for taking part in the war? Did you ever find yourself thinking of me? I thought of you almost every day the first several years I was gone. ___

__What he said was, “I missed you.”_ _

__A shiver of emotion ran through Robin, but she held herself back and kept staring at the floor. Her hands were clasped properly in front of her. “I am happy you have returned, my lord.”_ _

__Frederick felt slighted by the coldness in her words, void of the affection or friendliness she had shown him when they were children. He had no idea how to break through to her, or why her entire being seemed to be rejecting him from where she stood. She was guarded and armed with words, but nothing of substance came to his mind that could be used to convince her of his sustained fondness for her. Even if she said nothing, he still found himself wanting to be near her, so he stared at the stack of letters in his hand and thought of an idea._ _

__“Would you mind helping me with these? I was on my way to the book room.”_ _

__Robin nodded. “Of course, my lord.” A simple phrase thrown around by servants to their masters. He hated it, but there was nothing he could say in return._ _

__They walked in silence down the hall together, keeping their distance from one another, and even when they entered the room there were no words shared between them. Robin pulled a chair out for him, and he sat down against his will after watching her silent resolve not to move until he was seated. She remained standing and ready, only sitting when he ordered her to do so._ _

__Unraveling the letters, he began reading through them, his eyes drifting from the papers to Robin’s downcast stare every so often. Fed up with her act, he decided to push her. “Hand me some parchment from that desk.”_ _

__“As you wish, my lord.” She did as she was told, then returned to her seat._ _

__Frederick gnawed on the inside of his lip at her stubbornness while scrawling down his replies. Accidentally knocking over his ink, he mentally cursed as it stained the letter in a pool of black. He spared a second glance at Robin. “Clean up this mess.”_ _

__Without a moment’s notice, she was up and clearing away the liquid with the front of her own cleaning apron. Frederick stared wide-eyed at her obedience, growing increasingly irritated by the scene. “Will you not even comment on my lack of manners towards you when I ask for a favor?”_ _

__Robin did not stop moving papers or washing away ink as she spoke. “A lord does not ask his servants politely for anything. I am only here to do as you command, that is all, my lord.”_ _

__“So, you would do anything I ask of you? Truly, anything?” Frederick asked disbelievingly, but she only nodded in reply. Annoyed, he tried to come up with the most embarrassing order he could think of. “Then, if I ordered you to help me bathe, would you do so without complaint?”_ _

__Robin’s expression never faltered, still avoiding his gaze. “If it would please you, my lord.”_ _

__That was the final straw. Frederick crumpled up the ruined parchment in his hands, throwing it on the ground in a moment of frustration. Like a perfect servant, Robin knelt down to pick up her lord’s trash, but he suddenly moved down to her level and grabbed her wrist, forcing her to meet his eyes for the first time since they had been reunited._ _

__“Tell me, what have the years done to you? Have the people I left in charge during my absence harmed you? Insulted your honor in any way?” His searching eyes were desperate for answers, but they were only met with glassy ones clouding Robin’s true emotions—a look which felt like wordless sarcasm inflicted at his heart._ _

__“Servants do not have things like honor or pride to worry about, my lord. It would be a wiser investment of your time to concern yourself with the larger problems of your estate.”_ _

__“For the love of Naga, would you stop referring to me as ‘my lord’? I realize now that what I had done when we were children was a mistake, but we were friends, Robin. You can call me anything when we are alone.”_ _

__Robin grew even colder, curling her captured hand into a fist. “Would you prefer if I called you Sir Frederick now that you have been knighted?”_ _

__In a moment of betrayal, Frederick’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of his name from her lips, but the implications of her keeping his title first and foremost left a bitter taste behind. “What did I do to deserve this treatment from you? Have I offended you? Tell me what it is, and I will correct my mistakes immediately.”_ _

__“It’s nothing, Sir Frederick. I am only behaving as a servant should to her master.”_ _

__Robin refused to break the wall she had crafted between them, and Frederick felt his heart freeze under her intense stare. It was as if she were hundreds of miles away despite being right beside him with his hand on her arm. He sent her away, placing his face in his hands and running them through his hair in frustration. His emotions cast him into inner chaos, a strange occurrence when he had spent so many years calm and numb from war. For the first time in years, he sensed something besides anxiety or the need to become a protective shield inside of him. Warmth radiated within himself due to Robin’s presence, but quickly descended into turmoil after recalling her cold obedience._ _

__What he wanted from her had never changed since he was a boy. What he needed was not a servant, not a serf, not a sword, but a companion._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make the war between Ylisse and Plegia less of a "true good defeats true evil" thing, and more of a gray area. Emmeryn had to deal with some pretty harsh treatment after taking the throne in Awakening, and with no real information on her father I thought I would make him how I pleased. I've always imagined young Chrom to be rebellious because of this, especially after that small artwork of him, Emmeryn, and Lissa as children where he is not smiling. I think his father and how people treated Emmeryn must have had a large effect on him, but I probably will not show that until much later.


	6. Denial

The kitchen was overflowing with dishes for weeks on end from all of the feasts visitors were having, which, unfortunately, Frederick had to host out of common courtesy. Having read a very dry book on basic manners for nobility, Robin understood why he had to entertain them even if everyone else wanted them gone. That didn’t mean she enjoyed having dish washing duty, though. Scrubbing out grease, scraping off caked-on meat, soaking pots with left over gritty mashed potatoes left inside, and smelling ale throughout out the many empty tankards laid out was not how she liked to spend her nights. But, the other staff snubbed her by giving her the brunt of the chores. At least it wasn’t garderobe duty.

The single positive side to washing dishes was being able to think about whatever she wanted and still being able to complete her job. With her bad luck, though, lately it was becoming a curse. Her thoughts shifted from her normal memorizing game into wondering about Frederick and what he planned to do from now on. How long would he stay? In the depths of her heart she wished he would stay forever, but that was only a hopeless desire. His duty to the Exalt was more important than surveying his manor for the rest of his life. He walked a line of honor and loyalty, so any hopes she had were dashed from the start.

There was another part of her that wished he wouldn’t stay long for various reasons, one concerning if he would eventually want to settle down. In that case, not only would the feelings she was making a desperate effort to push away end up growing, but she would have to watch as he courted another woman. She knew Frederick would be a man of great sensibility and taste, so any woman he chose would be incredibly regal, kind, and raised with years of formal education—a far cry from a simple self-educated servant. Seeing Frederick at his wedding day and then having to serve his new wife, and eventually their children, were not pains she wanted to deal with. At least he hadn’t found a bride in the capital to whisk away, yet.

Robin’s heart contracted at the imagined, happy family scene. Frederick would be smiling at some noble lady, their hands linked, while their children ran laughing across their manor. Herself? She would be the servant bystander waiting for an order from her lord and lady, alone and just a footnote in their story. She couldn’t live like that—like this—anymore. Her mind was made up, but escaping from a noble house one owed a debt to was harder than most would think. There were thousands of acres of land falling under Frederick’s control, including his many retainers ready to do whatever he commanded. She would have to travel for days before she even escaped their combined territories.

Being stuck here surrounded by people who looked down on her, and close to a lord who still wanted to act like her friend, was suffocating. She had practically poured through every book she could find in the household, plus any she was able to sneak from the castle town. Okay, so she stole, but it was for a good cause. She lusted for knowledge, but there were no resources for servants or serfs to better themselves, and servants were barely paid. What she dreamed of was finding somewhere she could receive an education from professional teachers, to travel the world in search of whatever it was that kept calling to her. Maybe it was the land where she was born—wherever that was.

She had dreams and desires, aspirations for the future. Staying by Frederick’s side doomed to stay as a lower caste was not worth giving up those things, even if it pained her to consider leaving him. Distancing herself from him had already been hard enough, especially when he had shown such an open and hurt expression. His company caused an ache in her chest she did not want to feel again, so she had been trying to avoid him. Of course, she could not hide forever, and was forced to look upon the face of the one person she had once called a friend.

None of her longing mattered. She could win a thousand chess matches and still never reach his status as long as other nobles would not even attempt to hold a conversation with her. Frederick would still be taken from her in the end. There were other places she could go, other jobs she could perform, rather than watch him become happy without her. She wasn’t selfless enough to gain satisfaction just from that, and she hoped she never would be.


	7. Letters

The study smelled of ancient books, a scent Robin loved, but even its familiarity could not comfort her heart. It was dangerous to sneak around into rooms technically marked as private for her lord’s use only, but she had done it so many times before that the excitement of possibly getting caught had long since worn off. She spent many nights in the room reading beneath candlelight up until the wee hours of dawn, just herself and the expansive stories in her mind. She could be anyone, do anything, rather than just being herself—a servant girl everyone begrudgingly put up with. 

Robin chuckled mirthfully to herself. It would almost be better to be ignored than sought out for companionship by Frederick. Maybe her heart would lose its feelings overtime if he pretended she didn’t exist, then the hope she held onto would be shattered and she could leave without regrets.

She absentmindedly ran a finger over every book on the shelf, flying through their titles. She knew them all, had read every word, and scoured every page for some kind of mysterious answer she didn’t know she was looking for. There was always a sense of unease mixed with longing inside of her for some far off unknown, but every night when her dreams seemed to lead her mere steps from the truth—she would wake up. Searching for clues did not help, and books were her only friends, so who could she ask for advice?

Her thoughts wondered about everything and nothing, until she was crouching on the floor and flicking through some of the huge novels sitting on the bottom shelf. The entire row fell over with a thump as its weight was thrown off balance. Robin begrudgingly stood every book up and held the heavy row back with her hand in order to put the taken book back, when a pile of flattened papers caught her eye. Curious, she pulled the slips out and carefully fixed the shelf back to its normal tidiness before sitting back on her heels to read her discovery. They were folded over and over into small squares, slightly worn and yellowed by time. As she unfolded them, she examined the unfamiliar, curling penmanship written down on every sheet. She realized what she was holding were letters from a very young sender to his father, correspondence the deceased lord must have treasured.

_Dear Father, ___

_I am enjoying my stay here at the Exalt’s palace. Each day is very routine, and I am thankful you were always strict with my regimen at home. The royal children are so young, but I can see greatness in them…_

Robin dropped the letter and read the next one in the stack. 

_Dear Father,_

_I learned how to make the perfect tea today. Lady Emmeryn—is it okay to call her that even if she is only a child? What do you call a royal daughter who is still so young?—complimented me on it today, and asked that I make it again soon. I was so delighted._

Another letter. 

_Dear Father,_

_How is Robin?_

Robin’s heart stopped. She crumpled the sides of the note as she rushed through, her eyes drinking in every word. 

_I understand now what I had done was irresponsible of me, and you may be angry with me for saying this, but I cannot bring a small part of me to regret it for some bizarre reason. Serf or not, she was my only friend in this world, and I miss her. I thought I would forget her as I continued my duties here, but I still think about her and how much she must have been hurt because of me every day. I still believe she did nothing wrong. She was innocent, and I—_

A sentence was harshly scratched out with ink, left completely illegible. The next paragraph was scrawled in a diagonal direction, as if written in a frenzy. 

_Please, watch over her, Father. For me. She has only one person to care for her in this world, and many are cruel to her._

The next letter pierced her heart just as much. 

_Dear Father,_

_My heart bleeds to hear of Robin’s mother passing. I wish I could be there to give her my condolences, although words from a noble’s son would probably mean nothing to her. I know she is a serf, I understand there are rules, and I also understand we must remain impartial, but could you find it in your heart to allow her to join the castle servants? I know this is a heavy, unreasonable request, but take this as the only thing I have ever wished of you as your son. Robin now has no one to care for her, and did you not promise to grant her mother a safe place for her to grow up when she first came?_

_You must be pounding your fists against the table due to the seeming arrogance of my words, but I am not ordering you—I am pleading. The other serfs treat her as an outcast, I have seen their harsh treatment towards her myself. It would only be cruel to leave her at their pitiful form of mercy, and it is likely she will die without anyone’s help. I beseech you, my honorable Father, do me this one favor. Protect the only friend I ever had._

_With the utmost respect,_

_Frederick_

Footsteps down the hall, a turn of the doorknob. 

__________________________Robin gathered the letters piled around her knees into her hands and jumped to her feet at the sound of an intruder. Her heart still racing, she turned her back to the book shelf, the papers still crushed in her hands. Eyes meeting in the subtle darkness lit only by faint candlelight, Robin’s heartbeat pounded against the inside of her skull as Frederick stared at her questioningly. Silence permeated between them. Questions never uttered were thrown back and forth, until Frederick cleared his throat into his fist. Excited and confused by the knowledge that he was the one who had practically saved her from certain starvation, her cold mask melted._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Finally seeing her true emotions for the first time, a worried expression crossed Frederick’s face. “You seem disturbed, Robin. Is something ailing you?” He wanted to ask more, but as she frantically shook her head back and forth, he knew she would not answer._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“It’s nothing,” Robin said with a shaky breath. Her entire body was ablaze in her distress, eyes watering slightly at the tightness in her throat. She needed a drink—needed to breathe—and she couldn’t do so with him blocking the way out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Aggravated, Frederick clenched his hands into fists at his sides. “You have to tell me something sooner or later, Robin. We live under the same roof together! You cannot keep escaping from me this way.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Robin’s hands trembled behind her back as they crumpled the letters. Staring stubbornly at the floor, she refused to speak in fear of her voice cracking from the pressure in her chest. She owed him so much—owed him her life—but she was being so cruel towards him. She had to. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t. It was too much to hold inside, and droplets hit the floor below before she could stop them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Robin,” Frederick rushed to her side in long strides, reaching out to touch her cheek until she pushed his hand away. It was gentle, she had not dared to slap him, but the action still held up that damned wall between them. He bit back his frustration. She was upset and didn’t need him to make it any harder. Swallowing his feelings, he took a step back to let her pass by._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Wiping away tears while flushing shamefully at her rudeness, Robin ran out of the room. Only this time, it was her own heart that had been thrown into chaos._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________As the weeks crawled by and the influx of people began to wear off, Frederick was grateful to finally relax—at least, until an entirely new problem arose: suitors. He was more than exhausted from dealing with so many people for months on end, but just as he could not simply burn their letters, he could not turn them away from his door, either. It was the code of a knight to be a polite host and lavish any guests, sudden or not, with his utmost attention. It was all very artificial and bland to him, dealing with lords looking to weed their way into his good graces. He had plenty of land and a shrewd sense for business and commerce to go around for any desiring suitor, so he was highly sought after._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Of course, it helped to be the Exalt’s hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Stuffy discussions over tea, politely engaging in the most trivial conversations, days upon days of tending to the needs of other nobility—both high-born and low-born. Some of his own retainers who had served his family for generations came by with their most educated and attractive daughters in toe. It mattered little to Frederick, who could care less about papers or appearances. Few were engaging, although he could easily forgive most of them for being so silent since it was most likely how they had been raised from birth. Fade into the background, do not speak unless spoken to, and master every art and lesson a woman should know. He tried his best to get some of them to speak their own minds, and how shocked they looked that he would even ask!_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________There were a handful who he found to be exceptionally bright, whose confidence had not been kept sealed or broken by domineering fathers, but he felt more of a kinship bond rather than romance with them. He had short, enjoyably calm sessions teaching some of them how to knit, or talking about tea preparation. It was interesting to meet so many new people, as long as they enjoyed his company. The personalities and temperaments of noble daughters were as diverse as any other, and same could be said of their fathers. At the end of the day, whether their visits were pleasant or not, Frederick had just about had enough of company. He only wanted to rest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Unfortunately—once again hearing a knock at the front door—that was not going to happen anytime soon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Robin was sick. Sick of everything—of the lies, the whispers, and the constant condescending smirks behind Frederick’s back. It was bad enough to consider him marrying another person, but it was too much to see him be with someone who didn’t respect or even care for him. She heard every snarky laugh, every seductive word drip from girlish lips twist and curl into jagged insults the moment he had walked away. She had heard the same comments and quips so many times over the past weeks that she should have been used to them, but here she was, listening in on yet another girl’s conversation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Well, he has decent manners, at least,” the girl said, frowning as she scanned the tea room with disinterest. She sat straight as a pin on her chair, her legs tucked close as if she was disgusted by her surroundings._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Her handmaid, who had come along instead of her father at her insistence, nodded approvingly. “Yes, a very polite man.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“But he’s so dreary and boring, absolutely no fun at all. How will I ever put up with a man who shows as much feeling as a stone wall?” The girl whined, stirring her untouched cup of tea._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Robin stood behind the wall next to the door, an empty food tray held tightly against her chest. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the silver sides. If Frederick were around, the girl would return to her joyful facade in seconds, as if poison had not been spilling from her mouth only moments before._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Now, my lady, be silent!” At least her handmaid acted as the voice of reason. “What if his lordship overhears your criticism while we are his guests?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“I suppose you are right,” the girl sighed, “I hear he is a fearsome soldier. His temper must be something awful to behold. The more I imagine becoming his wife, the less pleasant it sounds.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________The older, wiser handmaid balked at her lady’s condescending words. “You must not say such things! Sir Frederick has close ties with the Exalt, therefore he could have great sway over the prince and princess when he gives his advice. A marriage would be beneficial to your family’s prestige.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________Benefit? Robin mentally scoffed at the notion. If anything, the girl would surely abuse Frederick’s money and run his manor to the ground. Anyone looking to use him for power and connections would not help him in the slightest. He was a man of loyalty and would never allow anyone, not even his wife, to control what happened in the capital._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“Prestige? Ha! His family was just a normal house of the lower nobility until his father managed to become a close confidant of the former Exalt during the war. Gaining a ruler’s trust does have its benefits and he surely knew that. Now, Sir Frederick spends his time as the favorite lapdog of the prince.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“My lady!” The handmaid shouted, but her lady only replied with an _everyone says so _expression.__

____________________________Robin had to clench her teeth to keep from screaming in anger. It was torture—punishment—to hear such bitter remarks thrown around about someone who in no way deserved them. So what if his family was original low-born? How much did it really matter in the grand scheme of things? She wondered if the girl would rather have a high-born man who cheated and gambled rather than a loyal and honorable low-born man who would treasure her. These people, the nobles, placed so much stock in birth that they never recognized the true qualities of a person. Perhaps it was a leftover from the times of the divine right of kings fueling their lust for blood purity, but she predicted it was more about hoarding assets and power for their few hands over everyone else._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________She couldn’t listen to another word, and didn’t care to. The inside of her lip was numb from gnawing against it. Furious, she raced down the hall until she could no longer hear the biting comments. Making her way to the book room, she shut the door behind her and slammed her hands down on the desk, the wood shaking under the force. That noble girl didn’t understand anything about Frederick! He wasn’t cold or unfeeling, he was always being kind and watching over everyone to the point that he worried himself sick. And, rather than being a boring stick-in-the-mud, he was honorable and honest to a fault. Sure, he was strict, but he expected no more out of others than he expected of himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________And, he was definitely no mere lapdog who would use his ties to the royal family for selfish reasons. He truly cared about Prince Chrom and Lady Lissa, she could tell from the way he wrote his crumpled up and tossed out rejected drafts upon drafts of letters addressed to them. He was gentle or stern when the situation called for it, and he hated any rough treatment of the serfs or peasantry under his jurisdiction. Any noble lady would be lucky to have him for a husband._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________Robin even had to admit to herself that he found him attractive, as well, in the way he dressed formally, his square jaw she found to be regal, his perfect posture, his wind blown hair, the way his eyes crinkled when he didn’t understand something, how his rare laughs seemed to echo throughout his body from his deep voice, the way he carefully pulled on his gloves, how he meticulously preformed every task to its completion. She loved his hazel eyes and how adorable it was that he only smiled on rare occasions, making him seem harsh when in reality he was so soft on others. She adored his gentle touch, how polite he was. She could name a hundred things that made her care for him no matter how much she wanted to feel otherwise. There was no escape from the truth blooming inside of her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	8. Visitor

Robin exhaled deeply, her fingers gripping the door handle as she had an intense, one-way staring contest with a knot in the wood. She wished she could pry off the damned knocker on the other side so all of the constant company would stop their obnoxious racket every damn day. It didn’t help that she already knew exactly who to expect on the other side: another suitor. Couldn’t they give it a rest and realize Frederick was not interested? Give the man some peace—not to mention his servants!

Such common complaints were tangling themselves into her thoughts as she opened the door, her mind going blank when she saw the beautiful girl standing in front of her.

“Ah, um,” the girl stumbled over her words for a moment, looking slightly flustered at Robin’s stunned expression, “is Sir Frederick home? I would like to speak with him, if possible…”

“Yes…” Robin replied absentmindedly. This was the first time a woman had come to call on Frederick while wearing armor, and with such cute clothes to match! She was adorable, her swirling hair complemented by matching grey eyes and pearl hair barrettes. There was no doubt she was a nobleman’s daughter by the way she dressed, accessories were not cheap and colored fabric was just as expensive, but Robin saw no man behind her after she had stepped inside. How unusual, almost obscene, for a suitor to come without her father.

The girl glanced around the entryway and down the hallway Robin led her through into the guest room. She seemed innocent enough, but Robin knew she could not judge a book by its cover. These noble girls were good at playing their roles, and even better at switching to their black-hearted selves the moment they were alone.

Suddenly, as if only now realizing she had forgotten something, the girl jumped to her feet and bowed slightly to Robin—who was stunned speechless by the action. 

“I’m sorry! I forgot to introduce myself!” She straightened her back, clasping her hands tightly in front of herself. “My name is Sumia. I came from Ylisstol.”

“Ah,” Robin balked at the blush forming on Sumia’s nervous face, “that’s fine. I’m only a servant, you know. You don’t have to feel obligated to introduce yourself to me.”

“Why not?” Sumia asked, confusion clear in her voice.

Robin wondered if she were wrong about the girl being nobility, but then how would she have explained her clothing? Perhaps they were more forward-thinking in the capital. She would like to see that…No! It could still all be an elaborate ruse set up to even influence the staff into liking her. A clever plan, but Robin could test her true intentions herself, too, if she wanted to play that game.

“Nobility such as yourself should not bother themselves by using manners with a lower caste servant like myself,” she explained, mentally checking off her confirmation that Sumia was indeed nobility since she didn’t say otherwise.

“I don’t think people should see each other by castes. We are all only humans at heart.”

Taken aback for a moment at her naïve honesty, Robin’s surprise twisted into contempt. It would be easy for a pampered noble to say such things, wouldn’t it? Overcoming the caste barrier when one rarely faced stigma might not be so surprising in the end. Maybe this girl wasn’t putting on an act, but Robin questioned if she really cared about Frederick, or if her father only put her up to it. She was loath to accept someone if their feelings for him were only half-hearted, or non-existent.

“How long have you known my lord? Are you well acquainted?”

Caught off-guard by the sudden change in subject, Sumia almost spilt the carefully poured tea Robin handed to her. Steam rolled up, making her flush slightly from the heat. Robin mistook it for a blush and bit the inside of her cheek. “Yes, we’ve known each other for years, ever since he had come to Ylisstol to serve Captain Chrom.”

Now, the girl really was red. Robin looked down at the floor for a moment, focusing on nothing but the storm of emotions she felt inside, before finally meeting Sumia’s gaze. “So, you are close…”

“I do owe him a lot, but—” Sumia’s reply was cut short by Frederick’s arrival from the guest room door. He looked from Robin to Sumia inquiringly, but Robin only gathered the few dirty dishes in her hands and made her way to leave. She brushed past Frederick as she walked by, never meeting his worried stare. 

She kept her composure all the way to the kitchen, and even afterwards when silently walking down a hall leading towards the castle’s private rooms. When she knew no one was around, she placed a hand against the wall to support herself, and covered her mouth with the other.

Blushed. The girl had blushed, bright and honestly, when she had talked about Frederick. She had confirmed they were close. The two had known each other for years, for so long, while Robin had been completely out of the picture. How close had they really been in the capital?

Robin harshly clenched her jaw, removing her hand from the wall and stepping back. It must have been nice for them to talk together—two people of the same social level, accepted by the public as companions and able to be around each other freely. So freely, Sumia was able to come alone, without a care in the world. She was serious about this—about Frederick. It was a slap in the face by reality to see it happening so clearly, a love story of the nobility blooming right before her eyes.

It made her sick.

But, she was even more repulsed for feeling such hateful things. It didn’t matter if she harbored any feelings for Frederick. It wasn’t as if she could act on them, so what was the point of it all? Why suffer this aching pain every time a woman came by to ask for his hand? She had no chance, no way to break into that level of society. They were above her, with their flashing pedigrees and inherited gold. It was foolish to stand in the background and watch longingly—a serf secretly pinning for her lord. The other nobility would be sickened by the thought! If only Sumia were like them, then she could hate her, but she wasn’t. Sumia was obviously kind and honest, easy to read and beautiful. If Robin had been born a noble, maybe they could have been friends.

Sumia must have been raised carefully, as a daughter of a noble house. She was probably brought up properly educated by the best tutors and loved by friends and family. One meeting with her was all it took for Robin to realize the truth. If Sumia had all of those qualities and more, then she had no other option than to accept the inevitable ending where she would become Frederick’s wife. She met all of the requirements for a respectable and lovely woman any lord would love.

Her heart breaking at the thought, Robin walked through the halls until she was outside. Her feet splashed through shallow puddles on her way to the separate servants’ quarters. It was sprinkling. A cold, refreshing shower. Robin’s nails lightly bit into the skin on her left arm as she raised her head towards the sky. The world was falling down around her.

No, that was wrong. The world wouldn’t stop or fall apart just for her. It would keep living strongly even if she were in the depths of despair, even if she lived a life of servitude until her death.

The weather was promising.

It was a good day to leave.


	9. Chase

It was dark and windy by the time Robin had finished her regular duties and packed everything she needed. If she hadn’t played along like normal, she would surely have been caught when the other servants came asking about her unfinished work. They probably wouldn’t miss her—other than having to pick up her workload once she was gone. It was easy to imagine being home-free, with no one to serve and the world to travel, but it would be difficult to get there. It could take weeks to reach the capital, a beacon she had kept thinking about ever since Sumia had talked as if they were equals only hours ago. If it was as forward-thinking as she hoped, then she could find a job there to support herself, find a place to stay, and find some professors to speak to.

After that, well, she would have to leave those thoughts for after she managed to escape. The rain was already picking up faster and faster the longer she waited, so she slung her heavy pack over her shoulders after throwing on her cloak. It didn’t feel real—running away. Slipping on her boots in front of the door made her feel like a child going out to play in a rainstorm rather than a soon-to-be-fugitive on the run. She sighed deeply as she placed her hands on her knees for support in order to stand up with the new weight on her back, and was about to leave, when a hand suddenly yanked her backwards.

“Have you lost your mind?” 

It was one of the other servant girls around her age, but Robin didn’t care to call her by name since they had never spoken. They weren’t even friends. The girl’s grip was tight on her arm as Robin righted herself, almost falling backwards from the combined weight of her pack and the girl’s forceful pull.

“Let go,” Robin commanded darkly, glaring furiously into the other girl’s eyes.

“You think you can escape without no one finding you? Especially on a night like this?!” The servant shouted. She motioned towards the door as the weather rumbled outside.

“It’s precisely _because _it’s a night like this that it will be hard for anyone to find me in this storm.”__

__“If you leave, I will immediately inform his lordship,” the girl threatened. She returned Robin’s glare head on, unyielding._ _

__“Do what you want, but,” Robin yanked her hand away with a burst of strength, “there is no reason for me to stay here!”_ _

__She ran. Through the castle town, across the fields, and straight into the storm, never stopping. She had already memorized the map of the manor, and knew the general direction of where the closest borderline to the next lord’s domain was located. There, she would be able to buy—or steal, if she had to—some peasant clothes and blend in. It was simple, just keep running. Never look back, never regret, until she made her own life somewhere else far away. Some place where she could actually be somebody—be worth something more than what she was._ _

__In the deepest part of her heart, a dark voice damned her for being such a fool._ _

__\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_ _

__Frederick enjoyed the silence as he sipped his tea. It was nice to finally be alone and not bombarded by guests. Sumia was a nice girl, but he was not in the mood for entertaining someone at the moment, especially not after Robin had given him the cold shoulder. He ground his teeth together at the thought. She was so stubborn! He really had to think of something else or his mood would only worsen, so his mind drifted to his earlier conversation with the Pegasus Knight._ _

__Sumia had come to ask him for…romantic advice. Why him, he would never understand, but it was obvious she did not want Lissa to tease her about it. Everyone could already tell she was in love with Chrom—except for Chrom, himself, that is. Poor girl._ _

__Normally, he would not lend anyone looking to woo his lord a hand in doing so, but Sumia had a good heart. He could trust her not to hurt the prince, or set a bad example if she ever did become his wife. She was a person void of ulterior motives. They would be a nice match, so he had given her advice, no matter how pitiful his advice really was._ _

__In all actuality, he was there to listen to her complaints and reassure her more than anything else. It was times like these he wished Lissa would be more mature about such sensitive matters, so Sumia would confide in her instead of him. What romantic experience did he have, anyway? Did she expect that because he was a knight he would somehow have a lady he was secretly courting like in those embarrassing romance novels? How absurd._ _

__And, yet…_ _

__“My lord! One of the other servants has fled the household in hopes of escaping!” A servant girl burst through his door, shouting at the top of her lungs. She bowed at him repeatedly as he sat, still stunned, in his chair. “It’s that worthless Robin.”_ _

__“What?!” Frederick stood up, slamming his cup down on the table. Tea soaked his fingers and the letter to his lord he had been busy trying to write, but he paid it no attention. Thunder shook the house, a demon’s stomach rumbling in search of its next meal. “In this weather?!”_ _

__Frederick rushed through the doorway, thinking only of how he should have found some way to help Robin. She didn’t deserve to be a mere servant her entire life. She was intelligent and worth so much more to him than she could know, but living in a world deeply divided by feudal society blinded him to the possibilities his new power as a lord could bring her. He mentally kicked himself for his foolishness. Of course Robin would want to leave! She must have hated working for him; she wasn’t actually born a serf to begin with. How dare he have tried to approach her as a friend when he did not consider their caste difference. Had he really learned his lesson all of those years ago?_ _

__Remain impartial, his father had constantly repeated. If he granted Robin a higher role than the other servants, they would see him as playing favorites. Perhaps he was. He had sworn an oath to protect his people and treat them all objectively, but the task had turned out to be more difficult than imagined when the one person he would do anything for was trying to escape from him into the eye of a storm._ _

__“My lord, we can gather up a search party and go after her once this storm is over. I doubt she could really go too far in this weather,” another servant said, stopping him at the door. He shook his head._ _

__“It will be too late by then!”_ _

__He thought of Robin, lost and alone in the middle of nowhere. Without shelter to keep her out of the freezing rain, her safety was at stake. What if she caught pneumonia? There were no healers or herbalists close by who were not under the jurisdiction of himself or his vassals, so she would surely avoid them. Then, what? She would die suffering illness because of his stupidity? He would not have that._ _

__Swiftly pulling on his riding gloves, his intense gaze caused the servant to step back. “Tell the head servant he is to oversee the household in my absence.” The servant stared as he tied his cloak and fastened his tool belt around him, flustered by his uncharacteristically reckless orders._ _

__“But, my lord—”_ _

__“Go!” He ordered, his voice booming. The girl bowed her head and ran off to do what she was told._ _

__Frederick ran to the stables, grabbing his reigns in preparation for his departure. Stepping up and readying himself after fixing his saddle, he kicked his horse’s sides and shot out into the fields like a spirit full of vengeance. Rain poured down in sheets, constricting his vision. Mud clumped and flew out from underneath his horse as it bounded across the soggy land, fearless of the thunder with his master riding him. A bolt of lightning struck the hills farther ahead, a flame through the darkness. He called for Robin, his voice drowned out by the raging storm. He cursed below his breath. There had to be some place close by where she could have taken shelter from the rain._ _

__Then, it dawned on him: the abandoned grain mill by the river. It was a dangerous game to be near the river banks during a storm of this magnitude, but Robin was most likely desperate enough to do anything at this point. He steered his horse towards the water when he found the rundown building, his beast trying to keep away from the flooded ground covered in dense puddles._ _

Frederick dismounted with a _splash _into the water, sloshing and fighting through the muddy sludge until he reached the door to the granary. By force of ingrained habit, he considered reclaiming the mill and connecting a pass to it from the castle town—it could prove useful to the bakers who needed a cheaper source of grain than the expensive choices from the capital._ _

____Shaking off thoughts of economics, Frederick pried open the door and stood heaving in the entrance. The inside was shrouded in darkness. He pushed his soaked bangs back from his eyes and pulled his fire-steel and chert rock from the side pouch hooked onto his belt. He placed the torch he had grabbed from his horse’s pack and shielded from the rain beneath his cloak on the ground. Luckily, he had always had a strange fascination with fire._ _ _ _

____Kneeling down, he struck the chert against his fire-steel till sparks flew, lighting the torch. He carefully raised the bright flame into the air and searched the room for any signs of life. He prayed Robin had in fact come here, but all he could see were mossy stones in the wall, a dusty dirt floor, and the inner workings of the giant wooden wheel stopped in its place. It smelled of mold and wet dirt. He was about to give up hope and close the door, when he heard a sneeze._ _ _ _

____“Robin?” He called, anxious. Something lightly shook the old, wooden shelves on the other wall. Frederick crept towards the sound, his heart racing wildly. Opening a chest once used to hold a worker’s tools and other items pertaining to the mill, he moved his burning torch above it to reveal Robin laying inside. She held her knees firmly against her, a bursting bag full of hastily-packed supplies in her arms. Her eyes avoided his face as he examined her soaked clothes._ _ _ _

____“What were you thinking?” He asked in a whisper. Robin bit her trembling lip and turned towards the bottom of the chest. Beyond irritated, Frederick gathered her up into his arms and pulled her out of the cobweb-ridden hiding spot. No words were exchanged as he wrapped his cloak around her and carried her out to his horse. She knew better than to demand he put her down at a time like this, when he could have exploded in anger at any moment. He didn’t try to meet her eyes—he knew better than to expect she would cooperate with him by now._ _ _ _

____When he helped her onto his horse after checking the cinches, her legs shook slightly from the height. Having never ridden before, she held on tight to his sides as he took off. It was a frighteningly shaky experience, and she worried about losing her balance many times, but Frederick rode slower than she had anticipated. She questioned why he would take his time in the middle of a rainstorm, and he mentioned it was dangerous for a horse to gallop across a hole-ridden field, especially with additional weight on his back._ _ _ _

____Feeling guilty, Robin was torn by the insults she was throwing at herself in her head and the exhaustion forcing her eyes shut. She couldn’t fall asleep on horseback, it was too dangerous for her to risk losing her grip on Frederick now. Yet, the rain fell like needles against her skin, cold and unforgiving. The world rumbled around her, then slowly drifted into silence. Her fingers loosened their grip as she relaxed into the spell of sleep._ _ _ _

____Frederick grabbed her hands and held them around himself, his other hand gripping the reigns. It was hard enough to ride right now without Robin falling asleep behind him. He shook the droplets from his bangs and stared at the grey haze appearing to steam up from the earth ahead, repeating his father’s words in his mind._ ___

_“Stay impartial, Frederick.” ___


	10. Tell Me

It was dark in the room Robin woke up in, blankets heavy on her chest. Startled, she sat upright and searched the room wildly for any answers as to where she had been taken to. Frederick’s stern outline was easy to spot against the flickering candlelight coming from the desk he was leaning against. In a low voice he explained he had a different... _servant_ change her clothes since they were soaking wet. The word sounded foreign on his tongue. It felt wrong—a bar separating them.

A slap in the face, as if saying, "remember your place, Robin." She knew that was not what he had intended, but the divide still pained her. 

Frederick shoved the silence aside after gritting his teeth. He knew she would not answer if he asked her once more what in the world she had been thinking, so instead he took a different approach. "What is it you want, Robin?" 

A flicker of emotion finally showed itself on Robin's downcast, empty expression. She didn't want to look up and see the pained eyes watching her from across the room, so she merely moved her legs into a more comfortable position beneath the blankets and turned away. "It doesn't matter. You can't give me what I want." 

Her words were like a knife twisting into Frederick's chest, but he refused to give in. The last thing he wanted was to lose her. "You had dreams, once. You never told me them, but I know you did. No one reads or works as much as you do to discover new ideas without having aspirations for something more than..." he opened his hand for a moment, lost for words, then clenched it shut tightly, _"this._

"Maybe I cannot give you whatever it is you desire the most, but I can help you get there. I can lend you the resources, a place to study, anything you need," he spoke so pleadingly to her, but Robin bit down on her lip and refused to meet him even halfway. He stepped closer to the bed, wanting desperately to grab her by her shoulders and make her look at him, but he held himself back. "Just...do not leave, please." 

Resolve breaking, Robin wiped away a tear threatening to fall from her eye. How cruel he was being, and he didn't even know! To ask her what she wanted, then say he would do anything to help her get it not knowing it was him all this time she so desperately desired, but would never be able to have. Truly, how cruel. Being asked to stay would only break her heart when he eventually told someone else how much he needed them by his side—as more than just a friend. 

Robin dug her nails into the blanket squeezed between her fists. 

"What do you know of a servant's dreams or aspirations? What do you even care? You act as if we're friends just because we spent a few weeks together as children, but that doesn't mean you understand anything about me. Just go play lackey to the Exalt like the dog you are and leave me alone!" 

Robin paled at the words after they tumbled out of her mouth in a moment of frustration. She had called him—how could she? He had remained completely silent. 

What was the look on his face right now? 

Frederick's fists trembled at his sides, full of pent-up anger and aggression towards that hateful phrase so close to "lapdog." Oh, how he despised that damned word. For years it had been tossed at him, a ridicule he used to fly into a rage because of once he was in private, but later learned to mostly ignore. He had trained himself not to flinch at the mere sound of it, but he never thought it would be thrown at him by Robin. It tore him apart inside. 

Steeling his crumbling nerves, he pulled out books from his shelf against the wall, hastily flipping through them before throwing them down against his desk. When he found a piece of parchment sticking up from between the pages of an old novel given to him by his father, he swiftly pulled the slip out and unfolded it. When the flickering candlelight revealed the carefully drawn lines against its surface, Frederick strode over to Robin and smacked the paper on top of the bed. "You remember this, do you not?" 

Robin glanced down at the crumpled paper from the corner of her eye, curiosity getting the better of her stubborn refusal to cooperate. Once she realized exactly what she was looking at, however, the wall she had built between them was blown apart. "This was one of my first maps," she whispered as the memories of many hours spent drawing and measuring every line spun through her head. 

"You left this behind the day we played chess together after I became a squire." Frederick watched as Robin tenderly touched the smooth animal skin with her fingertips, as if the map would turn to dust. "I secretly treasured this map for many years. It reminded me of home while I was stuck in the middle of a battlefield. It reminded me of you." 

Robin searched his face for something, a feeling that if she looked hard enough she could find the young man who sat on a gruesome battlefield full of fallen soldiers and stared at an amateur's cartography skills. He had carried her work with him for miles, through countries and capitals, seen kings and Exalts fall and be born with a piece of her at his side. Perhaps he had traced the outlines of the mountains and rivers she had drawn during the nights he could not sleep, plagued by the thoughts of those he had vanquished beneath the steel of his lance. Even when he was in the darkest realms of Plegia, or the brightest light of Ylisstol's palace, he had not forgotten her completely. 

"You made this map for a reason, Robin. There was something you wanted all those years ago, and I know you still want it now more than ever." Frederick leaned closer, his hand so close to brushing back a curl of her hair. "Tell me." 

"I want to learn more," Robin's lips trembled from the pressure in her lungs and throat, "I want to _be_ someone, but I can't do that until I understand who I am...where I come from. I don't know anything about my past before I came here. My mother refused to tell me a word about my father or why becoming serfs was our only option left." She spat out the word "serfs" like it was poison, cursing its existence. 

"Then, I will help you find out about your past. You have my word," Frederick promised, so close to taking her hand in his. 

Robin shook her head incredulously. "Why?" 

"Because we are...friends." Frederick bit back the intense emotion rising inside his chest for a moment, wishing he could have said more, but there was no hope of any deeper relationship between them. He was already breaking his rule of impartiality as it was. He could go no further than this. 

Heart wincing at the clear line between friendship and something more drawn between them, Robin stared at their hands before reaching out for Frederick's. 

Realizing what she wanted, he finally grabbed her hand and held it in his own. Her hand was warm and light, calloused from labor, though not as much as his own. The hands of a soldier were much different than a servant's. Light scars from where his father had dealt out her punishment years ago glared at him as hateful pink lines across her skin. He looked for her other hand, then realized she was hiding it behind her beneath the blankets. 

Questioning her through his eyes, but silenced by guilt after seeing her scars, he wondered why she hid from him.

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU I have been working on for a while now since I really love history and wanted to apply more of it to Awakening's world. A big focus I wanted to touch more on was feudalism and the class divisions that were present in the Middle Ages during the time of knights and kings. I will be doing research for historically accurate references when it comes to the lifestyle reflected in this fic, but there will still be magic and other seemingly impossible events present, of course. I adore this ship, and I hope you will enjoy watching over them in this alternate universe.


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